


His Jersey

by clarissa_writes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Time Travel, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous Time Travel, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Jamione - Freeform, Oral Sex, The Marauder's Era, Time Travel, don't actually i can't afford it, everything that happens is simply because magic wants it to, i can't write unhappy endings, james falls in love quick, james is fLUSTERED, quidditch jerseys, seriously, sue me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: James Potter doesn't know who the pretty witch in his bed is -or how she even got there- but he does know that she's wearing a Quidditch jersey.A jersey that has his name on it.His jersey.The same jersey he's wearing.Which, obviously, is quite odd seeing as he only owns one.-In which Hermione Granger woke up in James Potter's bed twenty years into the past.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Comments: 54
Kudos: 593





	His Jersey

Going back to Hogwarts to finish her Seventh Year and finally complete her N.E.W.T.S was hardly a difficult decision to make.

Unlike Harry and Ron who immediately went into Auror training post-Battle of Hogwarts, she wanted to graduate and _then_ pursue a career in the Ministry. Somewhere in the department of Mysteries to start with perhaps. Anything but being an Auror. The career was never in her cards, much to her boys’ endless chagrin. Ron had went on and on about keeping the Golden Trio alive within the Auror ranks. Something about being made for the job since their first year in Hogwarts. It was this recurring argument that inevitably drove a stake through their relationship, thus marking the end of their short-lived romance. 

It seemed their futures had to be aligned if there were to be any hope for anything more than friendship. 

Hermione thought differently. Chasing around Dark wizards and risking her life on a normal basis wasn't an occupation she wanted to have for the rest of her life. Seven years of doing just that and going on a run for months was more than enough. 

She studied vigorously for her hard-earned O.W.L.s and there was no way she letting them go to waste. Not when she spent countless hours in the library, nearly breaking curfew more than half the times she'd been there (though she never did, regardless of how close she’d cut it, being the stickler for rules as she was at heart). So no matter how much Harry and Ron tried to convince her otherwise, she accepted the invitation to go back to school and now found herself lounging inside The Head Girl room.

It hadn't come as a surprise to find that she was selected as Head Girl.

It had been her goal since finding out the position of Head Girl _existed_ , but the delight and sense of satisfaction she expected to feel hadn't been as strong as she'd liked. She used to dream about the fulfillment she'd feel when she'd pin the badge to her robes. The title of Head Girl was a medal of honor she wanted to own. She wanted to relish the fruits of her hard work through the position.The feeling of self-achievement was still there, sure, but it waned in comparison to the desolate atmosphere of the halls, and how she felt about the fact only half the students returned to school.  
  


Clearly, others chose to skip seventh year and if not that, they-

Hermione shook her head, willing herself to avoid the thoughts of those who were lost. If Hermione were to be honest, and only to herself in the safety of her mind, it wasn't only because of her N.E.W.T.S that she decided to return to Hogwarts. She's been trying, and progressively failing, to get a good footing in life _after_ Voldemort.

Life after the losses and the irreversible scars that madman inflicted in everyone.

It was easier some days compared to others. Though it never truly went away.

She pretends she doesn't have nightmares about Malfoy Manor.

She pretends she doesn't remember the grief that gripped her at the knowledge that Harry, her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, _died._ Even when he came back not even five minutes after.

She still struggles with forgetting about the vacant look in Lavender Brown's lifeless eyes after being caught and killed by Greyback. Or the overwhelming guilt she felt over their stupid petty fits of jealousy. 

And it hurts that her parents still doesn't remember her.

Life after the war wasn't all rainbows and sunshine, but she hopes that with time, it'll get there.

Perhaps she’s optimistic.

Or maybe she’s just desperate.   
  
Desperate to believe that one day everything would fall into place as it should've been. As though years of pain and fear hadn’t been griping her by the throat since Voldermort’s first appearance in the form of their Defense Professor. Maybe one day, she wouldn’t fear the idea of that _thing_ coming back to finish them off. She hopes there'll come a time she won't always have to look behind her back. That ever present fear loomed around her as she was certain many others felt too.

It's moments like these, albeit rarely, that she finds herself grateful at being markless.

Ron and many others like her, didn't have to worry about leaving behind a soulmate during the war. She'd seen how stricken with fear Ginny had been when her soulmate went off to fight Voldemort by himself in the final battle. She'd seen how inconsolable Angelina was when she lost Fred. How she _still_ can't move on, much less sleep peacefully, and how often she brushes her fingers against the darkened ink on her wrist.

As logical as she was, Hermione knows that if she had a mark, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from being emotionally impulsive when it came to her partner. Even without a mark she was always committed to both her boys merely for the fact that they were her brothers. She'd been so steadfast in whatever ploys they had to follow because she loved her best friends with overwhelming intensity. So imagine the kind of unwavering faith she'd have for her destined lover. She struggled keeping her parents safe and her friends alive, but add a soulmate onto that list? She's not sure if she could be quite as devoted to the cause or quite as willing to die for it if she had someone else she needed to think about.

Still, being markless wasn't all that cracked up to be.

They were common now, far more common than actually having a mark, but even she can't ignore the appeal of having someone made for you. Someone who was meant to fit you like a puzzle. Someone pre-destined to love you for all your years. Oh how jealous she was when Harry met Ginny and instantly felt the connection. She'd seen a handful of soulmates come together throughout the years.

Ginny and Harry.

Luna and Neville.

Fleur and Bill.

Even Malfoy and Astoria.

When she first came to the wizarding world, she thought it was rather barbaric to let a mark decide who you spend the rest of your life with. She'd stuck to her guns until she saw how happy marked couples were and how utterly perfect they seemed to be for each other. Admittedly, it was Harry's relationship with Ginny that really softened her views on soulmates.

Thus, the bitter jealousy of not having one stemmed. 

Hermione sighed, getting up to change into the comfortable Potter jersey she nicked from Harry. The first night back and she already felt drained out of her wits. At least school will serve as a distraction from everything else. She flopped down on her bed and flat on her back. She stared at the ceiling wondering if Ernie Macmillan had settled in next-door. The Head Boy was rather quiet from the few times she remembered seeing him in passing. The most they did was exchange a few words but even that was unremarkable. A Hufflepuff who fought alongside them and braved through his own fears. She couldn't imagine anyone else who'd make a perfect Head Boy.

"New beginnings."

She mumbled softly, remembering the articles printed in the Daily Prophet for three consecutive weeks after Voldemort's demise. It sang praises of the Golden Trio and the marks of a brighter, better future. "To the Start of New Beginnings" it said. 

Distantly she wonders if for Teddy, now orphaned and living with Harry and his grandmother; George, now half the person he was; Dennis Creevey now the only child in the Creevey family and so many others, felt this was a new beginning.

She doesn't try to answer that question. She doubts the answer will make her feel any better.

So she shuts her eyes, digs her hand under her pillow to wrap around her wand and sleeps.

* * *

It's late into the night that he wakes up to find a soft, feminine body curling into his. He sees and feels soft righteous curls under his chin that spills prettily over his Gryffindor red sheets. The first sleep-muddled thought he has is _oh, this is nice_ before snuggling closer and shutting his eyes for blissful sleep then realizes what's wrong in this situation not a moment later.

Sleep is instantly forgotten about and his brain kickstarts into the flustered and confused spectrum of _what the bloody fuck_ and _who the bloody hell_. He sits up, grabs his wand and with a whispered -he doesn't want to wake her which is stupid because _she's_ the trespasser here so he really shouldn't care not to disturb her but he does so anyway- "lumos" gazes wide eyed at the sleeping form still latched onto him. The next thing he reaches for is his glasses because surely he's seeing things. _Surely_ it's his shitty eyesight that's making him think there's a woman sleeping beside him.

James Potter doesn't know who the pretty witch in his bed is -or how she even got there- but he does know that she's wearing a Quidditch jersey.

A jersey that has his name on it.

His jersey.

The same jersey he's wearing. 

Which, obviously, is quite odd seeing as he only owns one.

The one she's wearing is almost identical to his, though there are minor details that differentiate the two. Like the shades of red for one, or the fact that hers look much newer and pristine. In comparison his were a bit tattered around the hem from the countless times he'd worn it to games and got a little rough. Sewing and repairing charms could only do so much.

"Who are you?"

James mumbles to himself, voice thick with sleep. He doesn't take his eyes off her. It felt as if she'd disappear into thin air if he did. Which is another thing he doesn't fail to notice. He's not entirely sure why he feels so at ease with this girl, stranger that she is. Well, maybe not to the point of feeling comfortable, but familiar. She feels familiar and that was confusing in so many ways. Staring at the stranger who looked far too comfortable nestled at his side, he can't help the heat creeping up his skin. 

He definitely doesn't notice the breasts pressing into his hip nor the arms still encircled around his waist. He _most definitely_ doesn't look down to find one long leg is bent over his and that her pretty pink lips are parted as she softly breathes in and out. He doesn't take note of the fact she smells heavenly and feels so unbearably soft plastered to his side like a Puffskein to a warm fire.

He doesn't feel his cheeks burn.

No sir, he certainly doesn't.

Amidst his panic, he quickly realizes that she doesn't look like anyone he knows in school. He doesn't know her or remember seeing her in passing which is rather alarming seeing as she's somehow in his fucking bed for Godric's sake. He doubts he'd forget someone as pretty as her. He may be forgetful at times but even he can't possibly forget about inviting a witch to his bed. _His first time ever sleeping with a girl._

James outwardly cringes at the wording and tries to ignore the building heat pooling in his stomach.

Not good thoughts to have with a beautiful witch in bed. Definitely not.

Almost as if the nameless witch could hear his perverse thoughts, she shifts, arms coming loose around his waist before reaching up to blearily rub her eyes. There's not much James could do when those long lashes flutter and hazel meets bright tawny eyes. 

She freezes.

Then, ever so slowly, she narrows her gaze and with an adorable frown asks,

"Harry?"

His stomach _did not_ drop at hearing another bloke's stupid name.

"What are you doing here? I thought you-"

She catches herself mid-sentence then quickly sits up. So quickly that he fears she'll give herself whiplash from the speed. Her head turns every which way as she glances around the room then back to him. She looks stunned, almost just as confused as he was. He wondered if he should feel self-conscious over her assessment of his room, Quidditch posters and haphazardly thrown clothes upon his chair and all. Especially when her eyes widen a fraction more and then she's stumbling backwards out of bed, falling on her arse without ever looking away from him. Merlin, he's so glad he became Head Boy if only for the sole reason of having a separate room than the others. He can't imagine the ribbing he'd get if he were caught with her. 

Her _~~his?~~_ Jersey rides up her thighs in consequence of falling off and she flushes an enticing crimson when she notices his eyes dart down before she's hastily pulling at it. 

They stare at one another for a long, painful beat.

Then his brows furrow when he finds his voice,

"Who-"  
  


"I need to see Headmaster Dumbledore."

She doesn't wait for him to finish because she's up and rushing to the door the minute she summons her wand from under his pillow (an impressive bit of wandless magic he must say and also, _just when was that under this pillow?_ ). She doesn't look back and the only thing she leaves behind is the loud bang of his door closing shut and the scent of books, ink and the barest hint of black tea lingering in his sheets.

His mouth is still parted from the question he never got to ask but he doesn't move from where he's sat. He knows he should be concerned. That he should probably have followed her. Instead, he blinks, lays back down in bed and tries to forget the bizarre experience. 

And if his heart is still racing by the time he falls asleep, well, that'll be something he never admits to anyone else.

* * *

James wordlessly plops down beside Sirius after arriving fifteen minutes later than everyone else for breakfast. The latter is giving him looks, glancing over to his other friends in silent question as to why the messy haired marauder was late looking far too exhausted this early in the day and why he hasn't made undying proclamations of love as he passed by Lily Evans on his way here. Even Lily noticed the lack of poetics being thrown at her as she glanced at him every now and then.

"You alright there, Prongs?"

Sirius frowns,

"You look a little..."

"Distracted."

  
Remus finishes as he leant forward. He lifts his elbows on the table, crossing his arms before raising a questioning brow. Peter purses his lips and nods along with their concern. James looked _tired_. Something completely unheard of as he was usually the one bouncing with energy to match Sirius. They'd never seen him this distracted either, except for when it was about a girl.

In other words, Lily Evans.

But this time, it doesn't appear to be about the red head since he failed to greet her the way he usually did everyday. He hasn't so much as looked at her. Which, as said before, was unheard of. It's the sound of loud laughter from someone in the other side of the Great Hall that snaps James out of his thoughts. Looking up to his friends' expectant expressions, he sighs and rakes a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm fine just..."

James bites his lip, unable to decide whether or not he should indulge his friends in what happened the night before. After a fitful sleep, he woke up late disorientated and still incredibly intrigued over the nameless witch. He couldn't forget what happened the night before. Since waking up with a clearer mind, he relentlessly kicked himself for not following her when she ran off on him. He should've asked her questions; why she was there and how she got there in the first place. At the very least, he should've gotten her name.

There was a very brief minute where he figured he dreamt up the whole thing and blamed his nature as a man to dream about a pretty girl wearing his shirt in his arms. After all, it seemed like the most logical explanation than some random witch he's never seen before just miraculously appearing in his bed. 

But then he went to make up his covers and found a strand of long, curly brown hair. It was only then that the idea he was dreaming was hashed out.

He knows better than to immediately tell his friends about the witch. They wouldn't believe him from how far-fetched it sounded even to his own ears, and if by some off chance they did, they'd probably call him out on his stupidity for letting the girl slip from his fingers. He wanted to believe this was some elaborate prank done by them but even he had to admit it was far too unlikely.

Finally, James settles with a half-hearted shrug and begins to make his plate all the while avoiding their penetrating gaze,

"I had a rough night. Couldn't sleep all that well."

Peter seems to accept this, going back to devouring his own plate but the other two are still suspicious. They share a glance at one another but say nothing else to his obvious lie. 

"It is odd though."

Remus says at length,

"You waking up late, and on the first day of classes too."

"Yes well,"

James looks across the sea of students to where the High Table is and notes with relief that a significant figure is missing. Hopefully he can distract them long enough to avoid the starts of an interrogation.

"-looks like I'm not the only one. Dumbledore's missing too."

"So he is."

  
Sirius agrees, still looking at the other boy strangely,

"But that doesn't explain why you're lyin-"

Sirius cuts himself off and just as suddenly throws himself at James, hands gripping the boy's collar and yanking it down hard enough that a button comes loose. James startles, eyes profusely blinking before he's hurrying to get the damn lecher off.

"Pad- what the? _Get off-"_

"Stay _still_."

Sirius tells him, hyper-focused on undressing him. And if that was a sentence James never thought he'd hear.

The two scuffle long enough that it draws the attention of others around them but Sirius is unyielding when he finally gets another button undone. Remus and Peter are looking on in evident surprise, jaws ajar at the commotion when James irritably lets Sirius have his way so that he can finally stop this madness and get to eating. He's burning beet red, noticing now how others are looking over and how more than a few girls giggle behind delicate hands.

This was so embarrassing. 

As if his day couldn't get any worse.

"What are you doing?"

He asks in defeated exasperation, eyes narrowed at the offender,

"You're just groping me now, aren't you? Ruining my clothes-"  
  


"You have a mark."

James blinks ever so slowly, then his brows slant together,

"What?"

Sirius stares directly somewhere below his chin, then carefully lifts his eyes to meet his. He's never seen Pads look so frazzled. Not by the way he's looking at James with something akin to fascination.

"Mate, you've got _a mark_."

The seriousness ( _ha_ ) of his tone and the disbelief coloring his expression has James reeling and quickly grabbing an empty plate to stare at his reflection. He stares intently at his face and swept downward looking for the mark Sirius was claiming he had and sure enough, there _is_ a mark. A mark he certainly didn't have the day before. It wasn't a sentence like many others had. Not even an all-important symbol. No, his was a name. 

Dipped in red, the cursive name read across his skin was,

"Granger."

James sucks in a shaky breath, then he smiles blindingly large.

"Hermione Jean Granger."

* * *

Waking up in the arms of her best friend's _supposedly_ deceased father and twenty years into the past at that, should've been an obvious indicator that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

But no, Hermione had been caught up in time travel before and while it hadn't gone smoothly each time, she at least had some experience in the field. She wasn't coming into this as a novice. It wasn't until she woke up the next day to begin classes at Headmaster Dumbledore's suggestion, and looked at her reflection that the panic began to set.

First of all, Voldemort hadn't become a renowned terrorizing Dark wizard. He was caught early on when he first released the Basilisk that killed Moaning Myrtle. He'd been given the Kiss apparently, and was no longer a threat. While that would've been wonderful news in any other capacity, that also told her she was in another dimension. Certainly not _hers_.

The other part that induced a mini-panic attack was the sight of a red inked name tatted just below her collarbone.

**_James Fleamont Potter._ **

The same James Potter who fathered Harry.

The James Potter that was markless and went on to marry the markless muggle-born, Lily Evans.

Harry's _mother._

She went back in time in another dimension and became Harry's sodding father's _soulmate_.

Cue mini-breakdown.

Throwing on her uniform, she had dashed to the Headmaster's office in a blind fit panic. They'd decided the night before that she'd lay low until they figured something out. The initial plan was to bring her back to her world as to not disrupt the timeline even when she had no memories of the future _here_. It was all fine and dandy with her since she had no plans on making her stay permanent. Now, however, this changes things.

Dumbledore said so himself.

_"Are you saying I'm to stay here?"_

_Hermione shook her head, staring at the twinkling eyes of the Headmaster. This couldn't be happening. They already decided it was best for her to return home and now he was changing his mind? So quickly? All because she woke up to a tattoo that wasn't there in the first place?_

_"I can't! I have a life there- friends and family. I can't possibly stay here, Headmaster! My presence will change things. You_ know _this!"_

_Dumbledore nodded sagely, looking at the girl with something comparable to pity. He understood where she was coming from. It would've been hard for anyone in her shoes to accept a new reality, but even then, she had no choice but to accept it. Magic willed it so. It was as evident as the name branding her skin._

_"My dear, your presence already altered things. Even you must see this. It's of no coincidence that you suddenly find yourself marked. Magic has deemed you necessary in this dimension and pulled you here. There's no point in fighting it now."_

_Hermione began to pace, refusing to acknowledge his words even when that irritatingly logical voice inside her head already began to see his perspective._

_"B-But it must be an accident. An accident that can be reversed. I'm not supposed to be here!_ This _is not supposed to be here! "_

_She stops only to point at the name on her skin,_

_"He never had a mark in my dimension as I'm sure he doesn't have one here. J_ _ames Potter isn't supposed to be with me. He's supposed to marry-"_

_"And yet you woke in his bed, his name upon your skin."_

_Dumbledore smiled kindly, even with the young woman starting to crumble in herself with each passing argument,_

_"Miss Granger, I cannot force you to accept your destiny, but Magic has called you forth. Even without meaning to, you answered its call. Surely you see why I can't help you."_

_When she says nothing, Dumbledore continues,_

_"It must not all be so bad, is it? Your new world is rid of the darkness you've overcome. You've done your part there. Is it so bad for you to begin anew? In a life where fresh starts are scarce yet you've been given one? Your part is not to fight anymore, my dear. It's to live."_

Hermione was still unsure of his words.

She could certainly see the appeal of beginning again. A new world where she wasn't Harry Potter's muggle-born best friend. Where she wasn't a spectacle to other wizards and witches as a worshipped war heroine. A world where everyone _hadn't_ died, _will not die_ , the way they did in her real dimension. 

But could she really live that way?

Live as if she hadn't gone through what she did? Could she live a life knowing she'd never see her friends again? Her parents? Could she so readily accept the branch Magic has offered her and potentially cause her best friend to be _unborn_ even when nothing was set into stone?

She wasn't sure.

For all that logic was always a sure route, she wasn't sure she could reason her way through this.

Hermione bit her lip, waiting for Headmaster Dumbledore to announce her enrollment into Hogwarts as a new student starting seventh year. She knew somewhere in the vast sea of students currently sitting in the Great Hall was her soulmate. Her soulmate and his friends- Professor Lupin, Sirius Black and _Godric,_ even Peter Pettigrew. She'd already been sorted privately even with her insistence that she'd been in Gryffindor before.

She sighs when she hears Headmaster Dumbledore call her in.

At least she had the comfort of Gryffindor red covering her skin.

It was nice to see some things didn't change.

* * *

"And now, we have another announcement. Starting with the Seventh Years is a new student. Welcome her as you would friends you've been with since First Year."  
  


"A new student? Huh, never had one of those before."  
  


Remus mutters, staring avidly toward where Headmaster Dumbledore stood. He tried to catch a glimpse of the new student but couldn't see her. It didn't help that he had a hard time hearing the announcement with the other three still hovering over James's new mark like a shiny new toy. Still, he couldn't blame them. Even he was struck dumb at the new revelation, though he was faster at gathering his wits.

"If you will, my dear."

Dumbledore gestures to the side and the Great Hall falls silent in wait of the new student. Even James, Sirius and Peter focus long enough to momentarily forget about the sudden mark on his skin. It takes a few agonizing seconds until they hear someone walking out and _finally_ , catches a glimpse at the new girl.

Remus feels James startle from across him, and when he looks over to the boy, his hazel eyes are wide open, jaw slacked and a rosy blush paints over his cheeks.

Remus mirrors his look of surprise, not to the extent of the blushing, flustered mess his best friend had been reduced to but Merlin, the girl really did make a pretty sight with wild, untamed curls and a small face set with bright eyes and plump lips. It didn't help that her robes seemed to be a bit small on her, as if it wasn't really hers and was just borrowed. It did well to accentuate the curve of her hips and the slight swell of her chest. Something he knows Sirius noticed with the way he let out a low whistle,

"It appears messrs, that I must take the grueling task of giving our newest lioness a tour of the castle."

His lips quirk into a familiar overconfident smirk that has Remus rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure the only tour you're willing to give her is of our dorm room, Pads."

He says drily.

James still hasn't looked away from the new girl as she made her way to stand near Dumbledore, 

"Again, please welcome our newest student, Hermione Granger."

James's jaw absolutely drops even lower as Remus, Sirius and Peter quickly turn to look at the girl.

At James's _soulmate_.

"Now, continue with the feas-"

" _Oh fuck me sideways._ "

Everyone turns to look at James, who hasn't noticed how loud he'd said that or how he interrupted the Headmaster mid-sentence. No, he doesn't even notice how everyone's looking at him or how he has this stupid dopey expression on his face. He's far too busy mooning over the girl who'd gone red at his obvious attention and mindless staring.

_"I am one lucky bloke._ "


End file.
